Picture yourself on a boat on a river…

I like coffee. More importantly though, the notion of meeting with a friend at a cute little cafe on a Saturday afternoon for coffee never fails to excite me.

How entertaining is it to judge people? To conceive in your mind space, exactly who, why what and how they are? You’re guilty of it – everybody is. If they’re not, they’re clearly lying. Now, I wouldn’t call myself judgmental, as such… – In the reality that is truth, I will give anybody a chance to show themselves to me. I just like to speculate things in my mind.

While I am sitting and waiting for my latte in the warm sun, A 30-or-so year old man jogs along the sidewalk, being led by his dog. The fact that the tracksuit is a very crisp, clean white sports designer label surely means that he works a 9am-5pm job in an office environment. The shaved head? Well, he likes beer, obviously. I am by no means serious when I make up a random person’s demeanor from the flash of their life they have shown me, I just do it to quicken the many seconds that compose my life.

Those of you who I think of as somewhat closer to me understand that I am less the bubbly social random person I appear to be while outside of my nest, and more of a quiet, relaxed woman who is forever contemplating something or other. My mind is an endless maze of the ripest fruits and shiniest objects that I cannot possibly drag myself away from. Usually, this is perfectly okay. But it’s the inner workings of my psyche, and it’s my life, and it’s me. There is no way of escaping this ‘me-ness’ of it all… there are so many unfathomable layers to decipher, to weave my way through.

Layers and humans go hand in hand. Even the most obscure stereotypes are humans. They have layers too. This year I have found myself in front of the television box, very much enjoying the experience of Australian Idol. I do not remember the last time I paid any attention to a reality TV show. And I will also not deny that I have been rather abrupt in judging contestants and deciding my opinion on them, whether it’s from their appearance or the touching thirty second clip that is their life to this point.

My point exactly.

You’ve wandered past me – Am I ordering my ‘skim latte, no sugar thanks!’ before work? Suited up in black work clothes, clutching my
oversized white handbag… Or, you may accidentally elbowed me at the bar last Saturday night. Dressed to kill, I just smiled at you, assured you that everything was fine and dandy, and continued ordering my crazy green cocktail… what life stories have you conjured for me? Each of you will have imagined something vastly
different, and I’ve no doubt that each person to peruse somebody’s entire life in thirty seconds will discover completely different facts about them. I have no idea what you, or anybody else for that matter, is going to think of me, and while this action consumes my entire being from time to time, I could not care less.

I am Sarah, you know that I’m a young woman with brown hair and blue eyes, you know that I am everybody’s friend. But what don’t you know?

From our meeting at the bar last weekend, have you perceived that I am a party animal who must frequent haunts similar to this every Saturday night? From the drink in my hand – say, a mojito – I work in fashion, and shop at supre? Perhaps. Whatever.

I am Sarah. I’m a young woman with brown hair and blue eyes. I’m a young woman who considers herself to have a very good life – a good enough job, an amazing little family and the greatest friends on this planet. I am a girly girl who’s fascinated by shiny colourful
things, shoes, electronics and books – a considerable geek. I am incapable of making a decision as bland as toast or muesli for breakfast. My ability to adapt to situations is either repressed or surpassed by my ambivalent feelings to change – I have not decided which. I have a very close relationship with my cat – it makes it more acceptable to talk to myself. He’s just there. This is who I am.

These are the things you may not have known prior to now… And I’ll give you twenty dollars if you can prove to me that our time shared in the queue at Coles this afternoon told you all of this.

Perception. It’s such a wildly interesting emotion, or is it a tool? Whatever it is, I know for certain that it will never cease to amuse, confuse and bewilder me.